Painful Revelations
by amberbalzer0920
Summary: "Lies and secrets, they are like a cancer. They eat away what is good and leave only destruction behind." John Winchester was an alcoholic abusive father. Dean was never home, so Sam always took the beatings. And he's always kept it a secret. What happens when someone finds out? (Oneshot)


A/N: I'm not sure exactly what inspired this story. It took quite a while to write, seeing as I favor the opposite of pre-Supernatural timeline. Loving John Winchester, not abusive. I do, however, feel satisfied with the end results. So sorry, Sammy… Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: (Though I wish they were mine) All characters belong to Mr. Kripke and CW.

Warning: Abusive John Winchester

" _Lies and secrets, they are like a cancer. They eat away what is good and leave only destruction behind." -Cassandra Clare_

 **Painful Revelations**

It always happened when Dean wasn't around.

When the elder Winchester was walking to school and the younger hadn't yet left, when he was sneaking into bars to hustle pool and get money, when he was out late making out with girls. Any time Dean wasn't home, it happened.

Sam didn't say anything, of course. If he did, Dean would… well, he didn't know what Dean would do. Just that it likely wouldn't be good. Besides, he was busy. Dean shouldn't have to stay home to protect Sam from something that had become routine, something he expected every time Dean was out of the house.

The only person to discover it- besides Dean, of course- was his English teacher. Mr. Wyatt. He'd been staying after school to ask a question about a recent assignment and had taken off his jacket because the air conditioning in the English hall had broken down. Obviously, the fact that he had bruises covering his arms had long since vanished, and as he placed the jacket on one of the desks, Mr. Wyatt discreetly eyed his injuries. He smiled as Sam approached. "Hello, sir. I had a question on that assignment you assigned earlier today…"

Mr. Wyatt was only half listening- although Sam didn't know that- as the young teen continued. Bruises like those weren't very common among his students. Now that he thought about it, Sam was the only kid to wear a jacket all day, every day. So, he was obviously trying to hide them—meaning it was likely afflicted by someone else. Mr. Wyatt broke out of his thoughts and managed to catch a snippet of Sam's question. "…if it's limited to just two pages?"

The English teacher nodded. "Well, two pages is not a limit, of course, Mr. Winchester. It's the maximum of what's expected, but you can certainly do more if you wish," he responded, forcing his eyes to lock contact with his student's.

Sam made an appreciative expression before reaching into his satchel and pulling out a book he'd borrowed from Mr. Wyatt a couple weeks back. "I finished this," he commented, holding it out to his teacher. "Do you have the sequel, by any chance? I couldn't find any copies at the local library."

Mr. Wyatt accepted the book and placed it on his desk, opening one of the drawers and pulling out the one Sam requested. He continued to keep his eyes focused on anything but the injuries. "That does make sense. These are older books, there aren't as many copies floating around these days. Can you have it back in two weeks?"

Sam grinned and nodded, taking the book as Mr. Wyatt offered it to him. "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Wyatt nodded in response as Sam turned and started to walk towards the door. "Sam," Mr. Wyatt called softly.

The young man paused and turned, meeting his teacher's gaze. "Yes, sir?"

Mr. Wyatt hesitated as he tried to come up with a way to ask about the bruises lining Sam's forearms. He didn't want to panic his student, as he was very clearly trying to hide it. "How are things at home?" He asked after a moment.

Sam's brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "Umm…" he blinked. "Things are fine, sir, why do you ask?"

Mr. Wyatt shot him a reassuring smile. "Just curious. Is your brother home often?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Too busy with girls and stuff. It's just me and my dad."

Mr. Wyatt nodded while mentally cursing. Sam was such a strong, independent young man. Straight A's, willing to do anything to keep it that way. But not social. Never speaking unless told to, and always speaking formally when he was. Addressing every student properly, every teacher as "sir" or "ma'am," and perfect manners. Mr. Wyatt had thought military father, but now… he wasn't so sure.

"Sam…" he paused again, carefully speaking soothingly as he chose his next words. "Is your father a kind man?"

Sam blinked, surprised, before a look of sheer horror grew onto his face. He instantly grabbed his jacket and shrugged it back on, hands fumbling shakily as he placed his book in his satchel and mumbled about having to leave. He was stopped by a firm grip on his wrists, and looked up to meet Mr. Wyatt's concerned gaze. "My… my dad…" Sam shook his head, blinking away tears.

He didn't fight or pull away as Mr. Wyatt removed the jacket and examined his injured forearms. "Does your father do this to you?"

Sam was torn between truth or lie. His mind wanted him to scream, yes, yes, he does and I want it to stop. But he also knew that if he did, his father would find out that he told someone, and the next time would be worse than ever. He choked back a weak sob as he shook his head and lowered his gaze to the floor.

Mr. Wyatt already knew the truth. And Sam knew that he knew. Though it was inevitable, now, he wished his teacher didn't know. "Yes," his voice was quiet, fearful.

Mr. Wyatt moved around to the opposite side of the desk and sat in the chair, taking Sam with him and gently taking his chin to meet his gaze. They were at eye level, now, and somehow that made Sam feel a bit more comfortable. "Sam," Mr. Wyatt said calmly. "Is there a reason you haven't told anybody?"

Sam shook his head again, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. "B-because if dad finds out I told, then…" Mr. Wyatt noticed how he wasn't speaking in a perfect professional manner anymore. "Then he'll hurt me worse next time."

The English teacher nodded in empathy. "And, Dean? Does he know?"

Sam sorrowfully shook his head. Mr. Wyatt weighed his options. Sam didn't want anyone to know for fear that he would be injured worse if his father found out that someone knew. He could contact authorities and have him removed from the picture, but if Sam's older brother was hardly around, who would be there to look after him? He couldn't _not_ make a move—abusive parents always call for action of some sort. There was one thought that did cross his mind, however… "Does your father notice if you arrive home late?" He asked.

Sam blinked up at him, confused as to where this was going. "Not-not usually… he's too drunk most of the time." The words slipped before Sam could even think and his hand shot up to cover his mouth as his eyes widened again.

Great. Now Mr. Wyatt knew that John Winchester was both an abusive parent and an alcoholic. Sam was surprised when Mr. Wyatt showed no signs of growing alarm. "And is it possible that you could arrive home after he falls asleep? Or occasionally… not arrive home at all?"

Sam eyed his teacher suspiciously. Was he suggesting what Sam thought he was suggesting? "N-no, probably not… He…" Sam paused, finally giving in to the temptation and just letting the whole secret begin to pour out. "He hurts me in the morning, too, after Dean leaves."

Mr. Wyatt nodded. "Okay. Would he notice if you left home early?"

The edges of Sam's lips turned upward in an appreciative smile. "No."

Mr. Wyatt smiled. "Good. How would you feel about a little extra school time every day? Before and after?"

Sam met his teacher's gaze. "I… I think I'd like that, Mr. Wyatt."

Mr. Wyatt nodded. "Okay, then, it's settled. Now, let's see about that book…"

For the next week and a half, Sam was early to school and late back home. It went unnoticed by John. Dean did ask, but Sam simply told him he was doing extra school work, and Dean had shrugged and rolled his eyes. Things were looking up, a bit. For once.

That wall of trust and happiness crumbled to the ground when Sam entered the classroom one day and revealed that John intended to "move" them to a town in Texas. Mr. Wyatt didn't know about the hunting, but he tried to convince Sam to report his father to the authorities. Despite his teacher's protests, Sam refused.

Sam was tearful and Mr. Wyatt felt guilty as Sam's father pulled out of the school parking lot for the very last time. The English teacher occasionally checked in with the authorities in the town Sam had mentioned, asking if they had any reports from a "Sam Winchester." He didn't know why, but he felt attached and protective of the young teenager.

However, despite everything that had happened, no news ever came in from Sam, and Mr. Wyatt didn't hear from him again.

Two weeks into their stay in Texas was when Dean discovered the whole ordeal.

He'd called his father and said he'd be out late having dinner with a friend, but it had gone wrong and he'd returned home early. He opened the door into the apartment to hear angry shouts and pained cries coming from the kitchen. He'd been hesitant, at first, but had instantly become furious when he peeked around the corner to see his father beating Sam to the ground. Blood on his knuckles and blood under Sam's nose.

He didn't even have to think before he stormed into the room and full on shoved John away. The elder Winchester snarled at him and had begun to make a threat, but Dean cut him off. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

John was clearly surprised. "Dean."

Dean growled in anger and narrowed his eyes. "I said, what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you hurting Sam?"

Sam was just as shocked with his brother's reaction. Dean never stood up to their father, but now? John looked _afraid_ of him. The blood was pounding in Sam's ears as he leaned against the wall, blinking through a hazy gaze as he watched the confrontation with wide eyes. Dean had been shouting, and Sam caught the end of his sentence as his breaths relaxed. "… and you are never to touch Sam again, do you understand me?"

John stood tall then, towering above Dean. "Who are you to tell me what to do, Dean Winchester?"

Dean straightened and met John's gaze. "I'm Sam's older brother, and I will protect him from any threat that comes near him. You're on that list, now, with vampires, ghosts, and all those evil sons of bitches. If you touch him again, we will leave and you will never, I repeat, _never_ , hear from us again."

Sam had fallen into a welcoming sleep after that and hadn't witnessed the rest of it. When he woke up, he was on his bed and Dean was sitting on the edge of it, lost in thought. "Dean?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Dean's eyes shot to Sam and he smiled. "Hey, kiddo."

Sam blinked as the memories flooded back and he met his older brother's gaze. "What happened? Is dad…"

Dean looked away with a sigh. "He's gonna try to stop drinking. We got into a fist fight and I knocked him out. When he woke up the alcohol had worn off and he felt so guilty about hurting you that I thought he would try to shoot himself. He said he's not gonna touch you anymore, Sammy. I won't let him, okay? I promise."

Dean's voice was shaky but he sounded confident. It was over. The routine of beatings was finally over. And Sam felt so grateful he didn't know what to say. So he simply nodded and said, "Good."

"How long was this goin' on for?"

Sam looked away as he said, "Three months."

Dean stared at him, mouth agape. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

Sam shrugged, shaking his head. "I dunno." He began fiddling with a string on the covers as he tried to come up with an answer. "I dunno, Dean. I guess I just didn't wanna be burden, like I always have been."

"You're not a burden, Sammy. You've never been a burden. What gave you that idea?"

Sam shrugged again. "Was it dad?"

Another shrug. "Sammy, talk to me."

"I dunno, Dean, I really don't. I just wanna sleep, okay?"

Dean obviously didn't want to let it go at that, but he eventually sighed and nodded. "Okay. Yeah, you get some rest, we can talk more later. I'll be in my bed if you need me. Goodnight, Sammy."

A forced smile. "G'night, Dean."

***Eleven Years Later***

"So, you gonna tell me why we're here?" Dean questioned, eyeing Sam suspiciously as they walked through the deserted hallway of the junior high school.

Sam shook his head. "It's kind of a private matter, Dean. I don't know why you wouldn't just wait in the car."

"Well, I'm sorry for being protective because you just recovered from being stabbed in the freaking back with a knife. You think I'm gonna let you walk somewhere alone after that?"

"Dean…"

"Don't you 'Dean' me, you see the logic in it, too."

Sam sighed. "Fine. But you're waiting outside, okay? Privacy."

Mr. Wyatt, English teacher, looked up as the door to his classroom opened. He was about to tell the kid off because he'd said he wasn't doing after school work today, but he broke off when he saw the tall man walking through the door. Behind him was a sandy-haired man who was telling him off about something, but he was cut off from view as the door closed. Mr. Wyatt met the tall man's gaze, and he instantly recognized those hazel-emerald eyes and the way his brown locks framed his face. He took a weary step forward. "Hello, Mr. Wyatt… You probably don't remember, but I'm-"

"Sam Winchester." Mr. Wyatt stood up, walking forward and removing the space between him as he grabbed the younger man in a hug. "It's good to see you, kid."

Sam seemed surprised but he hugged his former teacher back anyways. After they pulled away, he scratched the back of his neck. "Wow, I didn't think you'd remember me."

Mr. Wyatt smiled. "How could I forget my favorite student of all time? How are you doing, Sam?"

Sam chuckled, shifting his weight onto his opposite foot. "Umm… pretty good, I think."

Mr. Wyatt grabbed Sam's wrist and pulled him towards the desk, gesturing towards the empty chair as he sat down in his own. "Good. I'd like to hear about everything."


End file.
